Till the Tickle Monster
by MoonxLauri
Summary: A Frill story centered around the word Purple


It was at the lovely hour of midnight that Till decided to text Frank. The simple message was:

Come home, I have something for you.

Now the text in itself wasn't strange, Till had always insisted that his home was Frank's, but the time he sent it certainly was. It was a rare event that the singer called him past eleven o'clock, and even that was only during emergencies. One could imagine Frank's curiosity at getting a text at such a late hour and why - well, that is, if he was even awake enough at the moment to really ponder it.

"I swear I'm going to kick you so hard, Till." He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before answering that he'd be there in fifteen minutes. The brunette yawned and stretched, groaning in relief as his joints popped before he threw off his cozy nest of blankets, and snatched his purple hoodie off the floor. He then wriggled into his black sweatpants, grabbed his keys, wallet, and headed out the door.

"Kält!" Frank yelped as he ran barefoot across the icy asphalt of the parking lot to his pickup truck. The engine easily growled to life, and Frank was soon on his way, the windows rolled down to let the frigid night air wake him up. He couldn't help but smile when "Du Hast" started up on the radio. It was a popular fan choice because of its catchy dance beat and repetitive, simple lyrics; but Frank personally liked "Mein Herz Brennt" and "Mutter" better. Despite this he nodded along and sang along to what he could, only just able to keep up with Till in the simplest of Rammstein's songs, but he was unbothered by this. For the singer did help Frank work on learning the language, often restricting their conversations to just German, and playing dumb if Frank tried to use English for a word he didn't know. This of course had led to some frustration on Frank's part, who would in return tease Till later on whenever he spoke in English, cooing at how cute Till's mispronounced words sounded. If at home this would lead to shoves and eventual wrestling; both playfully cursing the other in their mother tongues as they laughed and "fought". But that is another story to be told another time.

It was upon remembering these conversations and wrestling matches that reminded the young man of Till's letters sitting in his dresser drawer. He smiled at the thought and decided he would have to read through them again.

He and Till had met, as is logical, on tour. My Chemical Romance and Oomph! had met up with Rammstein for the first leg of their European tour. It was an unusual arrangement of genres, but all three were known for their differences anyhow, so it did not matter much to them one way or the other. Upon meeting, everyone was cordial with one another, but it was each band's way of performing that interested the other. Once they had got a feel for each other, they had gotten along quite well, Dero by far the one flitting with the most ease amongst them, though Paul was right behind him in that aspect. Frank of course had made an effort to be polite and friendly to everyone, offering help if needed, though he tried the most with the oldest singer.

At first Till had been politely reserved towards him, but if anything this encouraged the lithe man to try and draw him out. The rest of Rammstein had seen this and teased their friend, who merely smiled and had taken it without complaint. Frank was no bother and knew when to let the older one be. But Till did have to admit; it was nice to have one who pursued him in friendship rather than from a sole interest in his money, fame or body. The young guitarist was sincere, and Till gradually opened up (though the degrees were small), the progress had pleased Frank and he easily returned the gesture. Of course not all that Frank inquired about was answered, Till's silence a rebuke for prying too much for his own good.

By the time My Chemical Romance broke off for the next leg of tour Till had decided he would not mind keeping in contact with the young man. The two exchanged addresses rather than phone numbers. The reason for this was that Till preferred pen to paper rather than a tiny plastic keyboard. Frank thought it romantic and so did not protest to this mode of communication.

But upon returning home, Frank began wishing that he had persuaded the older man into giving him his number; if only to have the convenience of it. It was the loss of the hustle and bustle of constant touring that had made Frank become restless - and if truth be told - a bit lonely. It wasn't as if Frank didn't have friends he couldn't have easily rounded up, but he missed the older man's comfortable presence. Of course in the beginning it had not been so, and Till had been quick to put a stop to the man's nervous habit of babbling on about nothing back when they'd been together.

"Frank, did you know our language has no word for small talk?" Till had stated, interrupting the brunette's incessant talking. Frank frowned and knitted his brows.

"No, I didn't. That's interesting though."

Till gave an amused smile. "There's a reason why we don't."

At this Frank had flushed and lowered his eyes, embarrassed at the sting to his pride the gentle but firm comment had given. "But would you like to know a word that has many meanings?" Till questioned to which Frank nodded, wanting to get past the moment of silence. "Gemütlichkeit. It means... 'peace of mind' is close but the best is the true form of happiness."

Frank gave a small smile and nodded. "I like how it sounds, it's lovely."

Till had chuckled at this. "Indeed it is."

A year and a half passed, and the letters between the two were abundant, though they constantly left one or the other in the agony of waiting for the reply. This resulted in Frank eventually heading out to Germany for vacation, letting Till know in advance when he was arriving and how long he'd be there. Even though the two had grown closer, it'd still shocked him when Till suggested that Frank come stay with him. Of course he had said that it was so that Frank would save money, but the younger one had merely smiled and nodded.

The two weeks he stayed with Till passed far too quickly for either one's taste, and it was with great reluctance that they said goodbye at the airport. Impulsively Frank threw his arms around the older one, before remembering himself and breaking away. He sputtered an apology and hurried onto the plane, worried that he had overstepped Till's boundaries and pushed him away. Till's letter of assurance that he had not soothed him.

It wasn't until a month had slipped by that Frank was pleasantly surprised by Till's interest in coming to New Jersey. In return Frank happily welcome Till into his home, and showed him his childhood haunts and adult refuges. It was Till this time who wrapped Frank up in his arms when it was time for him to depart, and to this Frank had grinned and hugged him back. But once separated neither could pretend it was only friendship between them. The almost something leaked into their letters, the little affectionate terms more than just playful and respectful words. It could be for naught but Frank decided he would move to Germany, he rather take the risk then live with the regret of fear. A year later Frank was settled in Germany, only a ten minute drive from Till's if traffic was light.

Frank parked in Till's driveway, in front of the cozy brick house, and bolted to the unlocked door, a savior to his bare feet. But it was not to last long for as he walked into the entry way he stepped on something plastic and sharp.

"The hell?" Frank cursed as he flipped on the entry light and grabbed what he had stepped on. The setup he saw made him laugh in shock as he got on hands and knees to look closer. "Oh mein Gott." Frank breathed as he picked up one of the numerous plastic green soldiers. They stood in a straight line and went into the living room, around the couch and off towards the kitchen.

But the biggest reason for his amazement was the obvious time Till had taken to paint all of the soldier's guns red. The other was that he had clearly taken the idea from My Chemical Romance's "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge" album. Frank had assumed Till wouldn't be interested in the slightest in his band's music, seeing as they were a different genre, and sang in English. He had not considered that his lover listened to them out of interest because it was something of Frank's, even if he did not particularly love the music.

I never seem to remember assumptions make assholes out of people, Frank reminded himself as he followed the soldiers into the living room. Upon the couch he found a neatly folded purple and gray blanket; a red rose resting on it. "How sweet." The brunette cooed, hazel eyes crinkling up in delight as he set the flower on the table. He then wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and continued to follow the soldiers. In the kitchen laughter spilled from his lips as he saw that the soldiers were taped to the table leg so that they "walked" up and across the top, before walking back down and going on into the bathroom. The next gift was a set of purple silverware which Frank admired for a moment, before moving on, wondering just how many gifts Till had planned for him. If it was much more he was never going to be able to repay his lover for all the lovely gifts. The bathroom revealed to him a purple beach towel with rose petals scattered on it. At this he again laughed and went into the bedroom where he found Till.

The burly man was sprawled out on his back, as if asleep, with white rose petals scattered all over himself. The young brunette grinned widely as he went and sat atop of him.

"You aren't innocent Till, white doesn't fit you." Frank teased as he affectionately ran his fingers through Till's thick brown hair.

"Insults will get you no presents." Till retorted, grasping his arms and rolling his little one beneath him, pinning Frank's hands between their chests when he tried to push the bigger man off. Frank laughed as he groaned for Till to stop squishing him to death.

"You already got me gifts!" He exclaimed though he quieted when Till nuzzled and kissed his scorpion tattoo that lay on his neck.

"Then I must teach you manners." Till decided as he pinned Frank's wrists down and settled his full weight on him.

"No!" He yelped, wriggling and in vain trying to free his wrists from Till's large grasp. At this the singer chuckled and proceeded to snarl and growl as he rubbed his stubble covered jaw against Frank's neck and face. This of course brought about laughter and soon mirthful screams as the older man tickled him.

"Stop! Stop!" Frank breathlessly hollered as he laughed and squirmed.

"Hm?" The burly man teased, easily able to keep the bucking young man down. Frank's heavily tattooed chest heaved as he gasped for breath, tears of merriment running down his temples and into his chocolate brown hair. At this Till released his hold, the two gazing at each other before Till kissed him, and settled down beside him. The singer gave a low pleasant rumble of a chuckle as Frank fixed the blanket over them, and then proceeded to lay so that Till spooned his lithe body. The older man wrapped his left arm around Frank's waist, and pressed him close before he kissed Frank's temple.

The two fell asleep beneath Frank's purple and gray blanket, both pleased with how the latter's birthday celebration had gone.


End file.
